


Nostalgia

by thelivingbird



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Book of Dust - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Chaos Family, Drug Use, Gen, concept taken from watchmen but not a crossover, lyra overdoses on memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelivingbird/pseuds/thelivingbird
Summary: Lyra was left a strange bottle of pills told to contain some of her Lord Asriel's memories. After making an impulsive decision, Lyra winds up experiencing moments of her father's life through his eyes. Some even including her.
Relationships: Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter, Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	1. Asriel

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of Nostalgia pills comes from the "Watchmen". The person who takes the pills experiences the memories contained in them including sensations and emotions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra inherits memories from her father.

Lyra shook the pills in the bottle absentmindedly at she scribbled some notes from her class reading. She had had them for several years now with no real intention for them. Still, she could never bring herself to destroy them. Just an item found tucked away in the room her father would use if he needed to stay overnight at Jordan College. Another secret she was told to keep hidden. Nostalgia was illegal. Copying memories at all was illegal.

It was difficult to imagine Lord Asriel wanting Nostalgia for any reason. She had known him to be averse to the over emotional and each pill was the definition of sentimentality. She put the bottle down. Only a few seconds later she heard it rattling again. Pan took over rolling it on the desk. He stops and they stare at each other.

“We don’t know what it does,” she said firmly.

“We know. Just not exactly.”

Lyra shut her book, “It wasn’t meant for us.”

Pan pushed the bottle closer to her with his nose. She left it gently rolling back and forth before she took it back in her palm and held it close to her eyes trying to count how many memories could be in there.

“The person who was supposed to use it is never going to,” Pan’s voice fell quiet. The cap slowly came off. “Just try one.”

Lyra flicked her eyes at Pan before shutting them and downing the entire bottle. She sat there for a while waiting for something to occur before she lunged forward in her chair. Pan stumbled as he followed her attempts to open the door. Finally, she was freed from the prison of her room only to fall onto the floor of the hallway. Lyra picked her face up off the floor and made eye contact with a horrified witness, _“Doctor.”_

She came to sitting upright in a chair. A cup of tea was still producing steam on her left. On her right was… Stelmaria? And then in front of her was _her_. Eleven years old. This young Lyra was fidgeting in her dress. She hadn’t woken up at all. These were her father’s eyes she was seeing through. Stuck in one of those uncomfortable meetings where she would be questioned by her father and then sent away again.

The chest felt tight. Lyra couldn’t tell if this was her own body having a reaction in the present, or her father’s in the past. Asriel’s eyeline wouldn’t settle on anything. If it went close to the young Lyra it would quickly drift away or hold on something just behind her. He took a sip of the tea and Lyra tasted chamomile.

“If you spent as much energy on your studies as you do destroying Jordan College property with your servant friend, these questions would be much easier for you.” The jaw clenched so tight Lyra could feel it in her neck.

Young Lyra whined, “I’m tired. I’ve been studying all morning.”

“And you’ll go back to it when we’re done here,” Asriel picked at the tips of his fingers. She never noticed how many hangnails he had and he had the nerve to complain about the dirt under _her_ fingernails. He kept picking at his thumb and drop of blood came out of the skin. “You can’t waste your days, Lyra. The world has enough empty heads as it is.”

“My head en’t empty! Last week a scholar came by and he left behind one of his books, you see, so I naturally had to return it to him. We talked about all sorts of things. He told me about this new way to create power for anbaric lights-“

“I’m the one who spoke to you about that,” Asriel chuckled, but Lyra felt his heart drop in his chest, “If you’re going to become a liar at least become skilled at it.”

Young Lyra looked at the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t help it, can you?” Lyra felt like she was sinking into the chair. She couldn’t remember this conversation. It had blended together with every other meeting into one unremarkable blob. She wanted to see her own face, but Asriel had focused his attention on his tea cup. The blood by his nail had already scabbed over.

The heart rate picked up a little. Asriel’s head snapped over to Stelmaria. Pan had scurried across the room as a mouse and was trying to tuck himself by one of her paws. Lyra could feel her father’s back tensing. Stelmaria turned her paw over to let Pan rest in the center. Asriel rubbed the center of his forehead. He finally looked up to return young Lyra’s eye contact. She was smiling. Lyra felt lightheaded through the whole thing.

“I’m tired,” Asriel stood, “Go ahead now, and send your tutor to me. I have some texts I’d like to give him to go over with you.”

Young Lyra fidgeted with her dress again, but didn’t move. Asriel walked over and gripped her shoulder. “You’re leaving, en’t you?” He pushed her along.

“Glad to see you looking well,” Asriel watched young Lyra walk out of the room. She was almost stomping. “Petty,” he murmured to himself. Lyra would swear she could feel the beginning of a laugh.

The tension in his body was near constant. Asriel found a decanter of tokay with barely anything left in it and poured it into his tea cup.

“We should go now,” said Stelmaria, “Or she’ll keep you for dinner.”

“Thorold has already prepared my things,” Asriel moved with energy now. He ran his hands through his hair and downed the cup of tokay. When he went to the door, he only let it open a creak as he checked the hallway. Stelmaria slipped ahead of him and the two moved quickly through the college and out to the field, keeping his head down. With every step his body felt lighter. 

_A wave of nausea hit Lyra. She was unable to bring herself to back to reality or to a moment in her father’s memory. Everything went black and very cold. Her vision was blurry, but she could just make out the form of someone staring down at her._

_“Blink if you hear me… good.” Someone out of sight scribbled something down. “Can you tell me who you are?”_

“…Lyra.”

“What?” Mrs. Coulter sat up in bed.

“Her name. Lyra.” Asriel stared at Mrs. Coulter, waiting for a reaction. Getting no satisfaction, he turned his attention back to the baby. Lyra could feel frustration as the baby wouldn’t stop squirming in her father’s arms. Still, he didn’t let her go. “We would know her daemon’s name if you simply let yours talk to Stelmaria.”

Asriel watched as Mrs. Coulter had to consciously release her hand from the golden monkey’s fur. He looked at her and cautiously moved over to the end of the bed where Stelmaria was stationed on guard. Asriel held his breath as he attempted to tuck his daughter’s daemon into the blankets.

His nerves were going crazy, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Lyra felt warm and maybe even happy. Asriel was smiling, “My little Lyra.”

“How much longer until Thorold arrives?” Mrs. Coulter was staring out the window, “I can’t stand this fussing around. I’m exhausted.” Asriel barely acknowledged the question with a glance. Instead he watched Stelmaria and the golden monkey whispering to each other. Lyra couldn’t keep track of the progression of feelings. Asriel’s face went hot, and though she couldn’t see it herself, Lyra would swear it must have turned red.

“Then sleep. We’ll be sure not to disturb you on our way out.” Lyra heard a grunt. She wasn’t sure if it came from the monkey or her mother.

Stelmaria pulled away from the golden monkey. The daemon slinked back to Mrs. Coulter and hid his face at her side. Stelmaria stood up a nudged Asriel, “Pantalaimon.” She continued to press her head in Asriel’s side until he kneeled down to allow the snow leopard a look.

How strange to think this thing was once Lyra. Stranger still to see, _feel_ , her father’s adoration for this small thing in this moment. How long did this moment last? He’s doesn’t let her go, but he held her without putting on any pressure. Asriel started pacing the room and he kept his steps light. He kept at this for some time, but there never came a sense of tediousness. Lyra attempts to search through Asriel’s mind for an answer as to why he spent so much time here. Surely, it would have made more sense for her father to arrive, take her, and spirit off into the night as quickly as possible.

The route Asriel had been making with his strides came to a stop. He stomped over to the bedside and dropped himself a dangerously small distance from Mrs. Coulter’s legs. The movement forced her to open her eyes, but from the smirk Lyra felt forming, Asriel knew she only pretended to be sleeping.

“Hold her,” he shoves the baby into her arms.

Her mother looks offended being forced to carry her yet again. She looks into Asriel’s eyes and a wave of rage moves through his body. Asriel gripped both sides of Mrs. Coulter’s head and brought his face close to hers, “Those are _my_ eyes. _Mine_.” He pulled her mother into a kiss.

Lyra struggled to reason why the Gyptians had ever described this as love. Asriel pulled away, but left a hand to linger on Mrs. Coulter’s cheek.

Her eyes still closed, she muttered, “I hear the car.”

“Yes,” he lied, “So do I.” Her father picked up the baby and left all the while barely making a sound.

_“…Belacqua.”_

_“Good… do you know where you are, Lyra?”_

“We didn’t expect you, Lord Asriel,” a man gripped his hand.

Her father scoffed, “Then my membership has somehow expired?”

The man laughed nervously, “No no no, just well-“

“Yes, alright…” A glass of tokay appeared in one of Asriel’s hand and he pushed passed the man into the library. He downed the glass with ease. Lyra was familiar with this ability. It passed from one hand to the next and dropped off to someone else who must have been watching her father with fear. She felt the pages of each book her father let his hand brush over as he skimmed the shelves. Suddenly, he stopped, tapping his fingers at an empty gap. “Where is the book I was using last time I was here?”

The sound of the librarian’s voice felt like a dagger in Lyra’s mind, “Well, sir, we are in fact, a library, and we must let other visitors have access to the same texts.”

“Surely a lord with your resources can find something else to busy himself with,” she didn’t even look up at him, “Or is being obnoxious part of your routine?”

He was taken aback, and figured a furrowed brow with a cross of the arms would disguise it, “Edward Coulter’s wife, no?”

Lyra saw that familiar cruel smile, “Charming.”

It wasn’t what Lyra expected, the sense of calm as her father pulled out a chair to sit next to her mother and quietly start reading along to whatever page she had opened, “Have you made it to the chapter where-“

“I’m not interested in discussing this with you,” Mrs. Coulter held up her hand, “I would appreciate some silence.” It looked as if the golden monkey at her side smirked. Very creepy.

Lyra struggled to get in touch with any sort of feeling to ground her. She forced herself to focus on the feel of the wooden chair and the ground beneath Asriel’s feet. Her father regarded the librarian who was stuck to his spot. “Why don’t you bring me the text on the late eighteenth century experimental theology discoveries of Beryl?”

“Right away,” and he scurried off.

Mrs. Coulter looked directly at Asriel this time, “Beryl wasn’t born until the nineteenth century.”

“And the librarian is terrified of me so it will be several minutes before he gives up and admits that book doesn’t exist,” Asriel whispered in her ear, “When will I see you again?” He reached for one of her hands on the table, but she pulled hers away. Lyra could feel her father hold back a grimace, but out of the corner of his eyes she saw that the golden monkey had joined Stelmaria and the two were resting comfortably.

“I won’t be able to get away for some time. I think Edward is suspicious. We need to be more careful and meetings like _these_ are not helping either of us.”

“Edward is suspicious of his own shadow. What difference does that make? Come home with me.”

Mrs. Coulter turned back to her book, but she didn’t hide her smile, “Would you get my notes from my bag for me?” Asriel complied, although Lyra felt confused. He went through the bag and found a stack of notes with a page bookmarked. When Asriel turned to the page he found a date, time, and place scribbled into the corner.

Lyra didn’t feel how tightly Asriel was clenching his jaw until it finally relaxed. Relief washed over him. “Very clever.”

Her mother gently put a hand to her father’s cheek, “You’re very handsome when you’re anxious. And I like it when you beg.”

Asriel made a show of looking offended. It made her mother laugh. He tore off the corner with the meeting details, “Now _this_ is not helping either of us. Anyone could have found this.” He balled the paper up with his fist and swallowed it. It felt just as uncomfortable as eating a piece of paper did. Lyra once swallowed a note that had an unflattering doodle of a professor. She missed a night out due to the stomach ache. Her father just smiled through it, keeping an eye on her mother as she tried to hold in less flattering sounding giggles.

Any warmth Asriel might have been feeling faded away with each step of shoes on creaking wooden flooring. Both her parents immediately made themselves busy. Stelmaria returned to Asriel’s side. He hoped only he had heard her growl.

The librarian awkwardly called attention, “Apologies, Lord Asriel. We don’t have any book regarding that topic.”

“A shame,” Asriel stood, “Forgive me for bothering you, Mrs. Coulter.” He quickly turned away to bee-lined for the exit. Lyra wasn’t sure if he actually saw or just imagined Mrs. Coulter’s disdain at his sounding out of her surname.

It was odd to think of her father as eager. Especially odd to attach any sort of nervousness to the eagerness. Mrs. Coulter teased him, but Lyra felt Asriel’s genuine trepidation. She was inside his head and as much as he tried to convince himself, he was afraid. For once something wasn’t a guarantee for Lord Asriel. Lyra assumed this was an unfamiliar feeling for her father.

_“Do you know where you are?”_

_“I-“_

_“Lyra, do you know how you got here?”_

_The room was too brightly lit. The machines too loud. Lyra closed her eyes tightly trying to escape from the overstimulation._

_“No, no. We need you to keep your eyes open, Miss Belacqua.” A corner of the room was getting darker. Lyra took in the much-needed relief. She saw her father, pacing. He made random sudden stops to check his watch._

_Tears fell from Lyra’s eyes, “Not here.”_

_“Miss Belacqua, please relax. We’re going to take care of you here. This is a good place. We’re going to make you better.”_

_“She’s not here. She’s not coming.” Another wave of nausea. A big one. Lyra lurched forward._

_“It’s alright. This is good. Getting some of the toxins out.”_

_No head could have ever felt heavier than Lyra’s did in the moment. She fell back into the pillow and kept falling._

A small sparsely decorated bedroom. Asriel groaned as he woke. Sitting up in bed, he gathered together the pieces of paper that were left scattered around. Half-finished work neglected for the sake of sleep. Lyra felt unusually hot. As Asriel got ready for the day, Lyra oriented herself. From the looks of it and the quiet of the building, it might be summer. Asriel stumbled through the empty halls out into the world.

He fumbled for something inside his pocket and pulled out a half-eaten snack. It was stale and tasteless, but there was a sense of impatience. Whichever route he was taking it was clearly a familiar one. Most of the time he was walking with barely any awareness of his surroundings.

Once he entered the restaurant, his senses became more alert. Stelmaria went ahead to a corner booth where an older man was enjoying a quiet breakfast alone. Asriel dropped himself on the opposite side.

“Professor, I had another book suggestion for your course in this coming term.”

“Asriel,” the professor sighed. Clearly this was not a first-time occurrence, “You continue to have a lack of appreciation for surprise.”

“I can appreciate surprise and still make a suggestion.”

The professor rubbed his eyes, “Courses start in two weeks. Patience is a virtue.”

“So, they claim. You said I could come and speak to you any time.”

“About _your_ work or even your life, if need be. If you cared to cultivate one of your own.”

Lyra felt defensive, Asriel sat up straighter, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve spoken to your other instructors. Asriel…” the professor looked at her father sympathetically, “They all say the same thing. You’re a brilliant student, but obsessive to a fault. Passionate, but quick to anger and prone to fighting. No one has even seen you out socially.”

The fury was all consuming. Asriel fell silent.

“I say this out of concern, Asriel. And I hope you don’t become angry with me, but… I contacted your mother and asked her to come and see you before the term starts.”

Asriel struggled to speak, Lyra felt the throat tighten, “You contacted my mother? If I wanted to see her, I would return home to do so.” 

“When’s the last time you went home?”

Lyra felt pain. Asriel’s knuckles went white with how tightly he was gripping his fist. He slammed it one the table, “My studies are _here_. My work is _here_. What I want to accomplish, the things I am working on… are _here_. This _is_ my home, professor.”

The professor pulled out his wallet. He began counting his money, mentally calculating the cost of what would have been a peaceful meal. “You’re too young to be cutting yourself off. I’m not telling you to stop working hard, but it would be a shame to let the opportunity for friendship, love even, pass by because you only ever spend time in your dorm or the library pouring over some text from a scholar of little reputation.”

Stelmaria growled at the professor. Asriel took some needed delight from the other patrons of the restaurant turning at the sound of the large daemon.

“Intimidation doesn’t work on me, Lord Asriel,” the professor spoke in a low tone as he took a sip of his tea.

Asriel slouched in his seat, “I assume you’re not going to add the book.”

“I don’t want to even hear the title uttered.”

Asriel forced a smirk as he left the booth. He shoved his hands inside his pockets, now snack-less. Lyra could feel his palms beginning to sweat. Stelmaria kept close to his side as they walked back out into the street. He was walking aimlessly. Catching a glimpse of himself in a window, Asriel stopped. He touched the dark circles under his eyes and rubbed his slightly overgrown beard. It was fashionable in a bit of an alarming way.

Stelmaria stared at him, “It’s far too early.”

“If he wants me to get out more, he would appreciate knowing I went out to a pub.”

Asriel pushed open the doors.

“Asriel…”

“We’re _socializing,_ Stelmaria. Besides, if mother arrives soon, I should like to add a pleasant edge to the encounter.”

He ordered a drink and another and another. Never once talking to anybody or even so much as looking up to those who sat by him. Lyra was losing sensation, or maybe Asriel was. A corner of the room brightened with alarming clarity. A fist connected to Asriel’s cheek.

“ _Miss Belacqua, we’re going to give you something to help you stay awake. Your daemon is still unresponsive and we need to take more drastic measures. Do you understand?”_

_“It’s just hungover,” Lyra thought her eyes might roll out of her head. Something sharp stuck her arm making her wince._

_“It’s going to take a minute to take effect. I want you to tell me your name, age, any other facts about you.”_

_Lyra searched the room for Pan, he was in a small container beside her breathing quickly. Her own heart caught up to his, “Is he alright?”_

_“He will be, now Miss, your name.”_

_“My name is Lyra Belacqua. I’m… twenty years old. I go to St. Sophia’s. I was raised in Jordan College. My-“ Lyra doubled foreward gripping her stomach._

Asriel’s knees hit the floor. Already, Lyra could feel the bruise starting to form. Perfectly textbook shaped. The bullies standing above Asriel looked as tall as buildings. One of them even had a coyote for a daemon. Stelmaria changed shape into a mouse and crawled into Asriel’s sleeve. He staggered trying to get up, but another hit made contact with the bottom of his jaw and he was back on the floor.

She didn’t want them to see tears. Asriel struggled to hold them in, keeping his face down just in case. It was too much, a whimper escaped his lips.

“You’re getting harder to break, Belacqua,” One of the boys said, “Excellent progress.”

Lyra felt the dirty sole of a shoe on Asriel’s face pushing him over and into the dirt. “Stay still,” Stelmaria whispered, “They’re almost done.” The dirt Asriel was breathing in was making Lyra choke. It felt like hours before he got the strength to get back on his feet. Even then he was aching as he walked down the road.

The dread screamed loud as Asriel was taken in by the shadow of his own home. He hesitated by the front door, eventually deciding to circle around and climb a tree by the side of the house. It was agonizing, but Lyra knew instinctively that it was better than facing whatever was on the other side of the door. He crept into his bedroom window, being careful not to make a sound.

Hours passed before any sign of life could be recognized. The steps were quick. Asriel burrowed himself further under his covers as the door opened.

“Another stomach ache,” his mother sighed, “Suppose this means you’re fine going without dinner.”

“Fine,” he groaned.

“Don’t be short with me.” She came over to the side of the bed and leaned in so close that Lyra could feel the breath on her father’s cheek. Still, he wouldn’t turn to look at her. “You’re stronger than this. I don’t want to catch you like this again.” And then she left as quickly as she came.

In the middle of the night Asriel got out of bed. He turned on a small anbaric lamp to create a dim glow. In front of a mirror in his room, he looked at himself. He was small and slight in frame. Lyra guessed this must be her father at eleven or perhaps even younger. He pulled off his school shirt and looked at the large bruise in the middle of his stomach. Asriel flexed and posed like he was a grown man. The image brought a smirk to his face, but only briefly. He quickly turned off the light.

_“Jordan College, yes, what else?”_

Asriel walked out of school with a new sort of energy with his step. Lyra definitely didn’t feel this confidence before. Something was sticking Asriel in the back, but he didn’t feel bothered. It still didn’t bother him as he climbed up another tree on the edge of the school property. Stelmaria following as a pine marten behind him. It wasn’t until then that Lyra saw that Asriel had been carrying a sling shot. In his pocket were small stones. Asriel gleefully shook them around in his hand.

Lyra recognized the boys who were coming her father’s way. Asriel readied his weapon.

_“Stay focused, Miss Belacqua.”_

_Lyra saw Pan stirring in his chamber, but, she wanted to see more._

Asriel’s nose was broken and aching, but he was smiling. She could see the other boys, two of which were bleeding from their head, presumably from the stones. They looked like they were going to kill him as soon as they got out of here, but Lyra didn’t feel any fear. Asriel reached out to his side to stroke Stelmaria’s fur. She had taken the form of a snow leopard.

_“Lyra, please,” Pan pleaded, “I need you.”_

_Someone had taken Lyra out of bed and was supporting her over a toilet. She had been getting sick again._

_“There, we’re almost in the clear.”_

_“How long have I been here?”_

_“You’ve been coming in and out of consciousness for the past few days. We’ve been taking shifts trying to keep you tethered. Your classmate brought you here, said you fell. Do you remember?”_

_“I fell? Yes. Yes, I remember.” The doctor helped Lyra get back into bed. Pan had been released and allowed to curl up at the end of the bed. It was easier to stay awake now. She felt terrible. Lyra wasn’t sure when she would be able to hold down a meal again, but at least she felt like herself._

_As much as Lyra wanted to be alone, the doctor wasn’t leaving. “Now, we’re not going to ask you where you got those pills, but I suggest that wherever you did, you don’t go back for more. You still may be experiencing some symptoms, mostly general confusion, but that’s why we work so hard to keep you in your own head, you understand?”_

_Lyra nodded._

_“I have to step out for a moment. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”_

_As soon as the doctor closed the door Pan scurried up the bed, “What happened? What did you see? I felt like I was disappearing. Oh Lyra, it was awful. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!”_

_She didn’t say anything, instead simply holding Pan close to her. It was difficult to even think, her head was pounding so hard. Bed. Sheets. Chair. Door. Walls. She kept listing every physical thing in the room down to the stains on the floor. Lyra continued to do this until the hospital discharged her. Pan and she barely spoke the entire time they were there. She had told them that the memories were scattered. It was true, just not detailed._

_Not that Lyra would have been able to get more detailed. The only thing this experience had confirmed for Lyra was that her father was capable of love and affection he just didn’t want to give it to her. Or he did and then at some point changed his mind. Either way it wasn’t really information that was worth a trip to the hospital._

_So what he lost her mother? So what he was an angry lonely kid? What did that have to do with Lyra? It’s not like they could talk about any of it now._

_As Lyra settled back into her own bed, a piercing ache shot through the back of her skull_.

“But where are _you_ going?” She heard her younger self say.

“Back to the north. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

“Can I come?”

Asriel caught his breath. Lyra could feel it. She was no longer seeing as clearly. The figures and setting looked like a soft haze on Lyra’s actual surroundings. She saw the shadow of the girl standing in front of her. Her father was staring at her, considering her. Though the feelings were getting harder to decipher, Lyra could guess he felt amusement maybe, perhaps pride.

Young Lyra gazed back fiercely.


	2. Marisa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more and Lyra has yet to learn her lesson. (Or: This was originally just going to be the first chapter and then I changed my mind.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Effie for suggestions and proofreads along the way. NO THANKS to the inexplicable un-indenting of the fic, and my laziness at correcting it.

Just some leather jackets, ripped pants, and a single cardigan. Lyra had brought the trunk of her father’s things into her dorm. It had been a few weeks before she brought herself to open up the box. Her stomach churned just at the thought of it. When the memory of her trip to the hospital turned into a dull ache, and the memory of memory returned to a sensation of insatiable curiosity.

Lyra could refashion some of these into some stylish clothing for herself. The fabric was still nice if not worn. On one of the jacket sleeves Lyra could see the barely there stain of when she accidentally pushed a glass of tokay off the table onto her father. It was in the inner coat of that pocket that Lyra found more of those sickening things.

Pan tried to pry the bottle from her grasp even going so far as to nibble at her fingers, “Lyra, no!”

“I know better now. I know how to handle them.”

“You know how to _not_ handle them.”

“These were made to be taken,” Lyra mentally counted the pills in each of them. It would take a while to get through them all, but at least she could do it quietly this time. The last journey through time was frightening, yet thrilling. She rolled a pill out of the bottle and touched it to her tongue. Pan squeeled. The taste was terrible. Did she forget or did the horrible wave wipe it out. She put the pill back in the bottle.

“Good,” Pan exhaled, “Enough of that.”

“I’m going to get some chocolatl,” Pan perked up, “It will make them easier to take down. We’ll go slowly this time, I promise.”

Pan made small sounds of discomfort. Lyra reached down to comfort him. She was being sincere. She didn’t want to put Pan through that again. He was so afraid the days after they got back, he never left her side even after these years of distant travels.

When she got her hot chocolatl she crushed the first pill into a powder and sprinkled it in like sugar. She would start with just a sip, to test the waters. Pan perched on her shoulder, trying not to shake.

The first taste was nothing. Just a flash. Lyra took a bigger gulp. A group of young children targeting one. Another copy of the bullying memory?

Lyra nudged Pan, “How do you feel?”

“Alright,” said Pan, “Go on.”

_Lyra took in half the glass._ The picture became clearer. She wasn’t seeing from the perspective of the tormented, but the tormenters. And it was no longer young boys, but girls. The girl was standing off to the side as she watched another drag this poor child around by her braid. People were screaming, but the girl remained silent. Lyra felt an incredible sense of peace.

She knew she wouldn’t let this go on much longer. This was only to send a message, after all. A way to keep order in the ranks of the school. Lyra was eager to find some sort of mirror, glass, or puddle even. It wasn’t necessary, since she was quite certain whose head contained these cold thoughts.

Judging by the age of the other girls Mrs. Coulter may have been as young as seven or eight. Her mother’s daemon had taken the form of a vulture. He was circling above the scene keeping watch. Mrs. Coulter made the tiniest gesture and the daemon swooped down scaring off the other girls. Only the girl with the braid remained on the ground.

“My father told me that people who would eavesdrop would sometimes get their ears ripped off.” Mrs. Coulter walked over to nudge the girl with her shoe. “Go.”

The girl kept her hands on her face as she got up, thinking they allowed her to keep some shred of dignity. Lyra could hear the shouts and giggles of young girls behind her, approving of the whole ordeal.

Lyra didn’t feel any excitement. In fact, the whole scene remained at a steady beat. It was calm. Mrs. Coulter was in control.

_Already Lyra was fading back to her own world. Pan was in a daze, but still awake and quickly becoming more alert. Lyra offered him her hand in reassurance. The experience was quick with little side effects. The physical toll was not what made her hesitate to continue this practice. How much more would Lyra find about her?_

_Lyra created a schedule. Dates and times that would allow her the longest recovery period. On the next try, Lyra found herself rushing back to her room._

Mrs. Coulter remained seated crossing out numbers and starting the problem from scratch. Her tutor wasn’t even interested in her work. Or at least, that’s how Mrs. Coulter felt. At some arbitrary hour the tutor got up and bid her goodbye, but Mrs. Coulter didn’t move. She was waiting. The sounds of heels closed in. Lyra felt her mother’s heart quicken. The woman’s lizard daemon sat on her shoulder. It went down her arm to the paper on Mrs. Coulter’s desk.

“Your tutor tells me you’re doing well.”

“I enjoy it.” Her mother kept her eyes trained forward. Lyra could hear the papers being shuffled.

“Hm, I can see that. Yet…” the woman sighed, “Well, I don’t know why you bother, really. I’ll be going out tonight. Luann’s girl is having some little thing and I can’t avoid that family much longer.”

“I heard. Anna is-“

“And I’ll expect to find you in bed when I return.” Lyra got to watch as her grandmother turned and left the room. She both somehow was and wasn’t what Lyra imagined as the mother of her mother. Mrs. Coulter collected her things, but when she got to the doorway she waited. It wasn’t until the sounds of a car was heard that she left her post. Her daemon followed her in the form of an iguana.

“She’s holding us back,” he whispers.

Mrs. Coulter shook her head, “No. She just wants us to get it perfect.” Lyra could feel her mother wanting to believe that. A knot formed in her stomach.

“Marcel is using the same texts and he’s _younger._ ”

“Quiet,” Marisa creeped into a bedroom. Lyra was overwhelmed by the scent of perfume. A whole tray contained an assortment of glass bottles with the caps taken off. Mrs. Coulter covered her mouth with her hand. The daemon shifted into a golden monkey peaking around the bedroom.

He looked back at Mrs. Coulter, “I’ll be careful to put everything back in its place.”

“She might not have got them yet.”

“The books are ancient. She is not buying anything new for us.”

Mrs. Coulter ignored the conspiracies of her daemon. Lyra felt nails meet skin as Mrs. Coulter clenched her fist. She walked over to the bedroom closet and pushed the door open. Slipping out of her own shoes, Mrs. Coulter put her feet into a pair of heels that were two sizes too big for her.

Lyra struggled with the discomfort as Mrs. Coulter awkwardly stumbled over to the full-length mirror. It made her legs look longer. Mrs. Coulter stretched out her left leg to admire it. As she leaned on her right to support she slipped in the oversized shoe.

First, she heard the snapping of the shoe’s heel. Then, her own ankle. Lyra felt the pain burn through with explosive speed. Still, Mrs. Coulter didn’t scream. Her daemon shrieked and wailed on the floor next to her while she bit her own bottom lip so hard it drew blood. Only feeling the pain, she lost track of time. By the time the light from the hallway leaked in, tears had dried on Mrs. Coulter’s face.

Lyra heard a groan of disapproval before two arms lifted Mrs. Coulter and carried her out. It felt like coming out of the Nostalgia, but it was just her mother passing out from the pain. When she woke the injury was bound and Mrs. Coulter was bedridden.

“My books,” she extended her hand.

Lyra’s grandmother only pressed her lips together at the sudden disturbance. She stood up as if to come closer, but she just stayed in place. Lyra felt like she was an animal in containment being observed.

“Darling you can hardly open your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any of that.”

“At least leave it in arm’s reach. So, I can try. I don’t want to be simple minded, maman.”

“Simple minded,” she spat back the words, “What’s the point of having anything in your head if you don’t know how to use it?”

The woman came closer to brush back the sweaty strands of Mrs. Coulter’s hair, “The best thing you can do for me right now is to heal and get better. Then we’ll discuss your future lessons.”

She waited for a response, but Lyra felt her mother’s anger. She wouldn’t be saying a word until that women had left. After a short staring context, she did and Mrs. Coulter was ready to relish the peace. Light footsteps padded toward the bedroom. A young boy peaked his head around the doorway.

“Is it true you ruined maman’s shoes?” he smiled.

Mrs. Coulter smiled too, “I didn’t realize. Good to know this wasn’t a complete waste of time. Marcel…”

The boy came up to her bedside still smiling. Lyra knew Mrs. Coulter thought he looked foolish. It wasn’t a cruel thought. There was an endearing quality to it.

“Would you do me a favor?”

“Of course! Shall I snap another pair of shoes?”

Mrs. Coulter snorted and shook her head, “No. Just bring me my books. And some chocolatl.”

Marcel quickly put her things together and piled it at her bedside. So obedient. Lyra wondered what happened to this brother, her uncle. He was under her mother’s thumb, at this point at least. Did he defy her? That could easily cause someone to fall out of Mrs. Coulter’s affections.

“She says you’re going to be in here for over a month.”

“I’ll be out and about sooner than that. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lyra wanted to release the scream that hummed constantly in her mother. She only received the small relief of gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. She didn’t even fully register her mother’s daemon changing shape into a golden monkey. He leapt for the papers and books. Grabbing them and tearing them to shreds.

Mrs. Coulter tried to lunge forward to hit her daemon. How dare he do this to her?

Feeling her rage, he somehow spoke calmly, “They were causing you pain.”

_Lyra gripped her own ankle. She was sweating. Her back released a sense of tension she didn’t know she was holding. Head to hard table to steady the breathing. Pan nuzzled into her neck letting her know he was okay. What worried Lyra though, was how quickly she wanted to go again._

The dim light strained her eyes. The hand ached from overuse. Mrs. Coulter dropped her pen to flex it open and closed. Lyra examined the writing. It was an application. Several applications all for schools in Brytain. The eyes felt strained and thought Lyra could feel her mother trying to reboot herself, it was a lost cause. She shut the light off and with perfect precision, even in the dark, she knocked the false bottom out of one of her drawers and slipped the papers underneath. There was excitement to this secrecy, but the type that had a strong sense of urgency.

Mrs. Coulter’s daemon climbed to the edge of the desk bed. The moonlight from the window reflected off of his fur. It would have been beautiful, but Lyra felt the disdain.

He tried to speak, but Mrs. Coulter shushed her monkey as she collapsed into bed. A few feathers floated into the air, “You’re the one destroying our things.” She plucked the feathers out of the air keeping count of each piece.

She stared at her daemon. Lyra felt both the power and the weight of the gaze.

“I can’t. We’re too tired.”

“Go.”

And the golden monkey began to move. He crawled up to and out the window, looking back over his shoulder hoping to be called back to his counterpart’s side. He slowly moved out of vision and Lyra felt that horribly familiar ache in her heart, but now in her mother’s. Lyra tried to reach through time, but her mother would not waiver in her resolve. She wanted to keep pushing.

He must have been far the pain felt as sharp as the broken angle had. It began to dull and Lyra was counting the moments until she could see that terrible bastard again. As he returned, his body was shaking.

“Soon we’ll both be far from here.”

_Lyra fell out of the memory quickly as if someone was pulling her back. Pan stared at her defiant. She thought he couldn’t experience the memory with her. Could her own daemon have deceived her in such a way?_

_It was a full week before Lyra picked things back up again. Pan reminded her that she promised to go slowly this time and she was quickly breaking that promise. As annoyed as she was to cut herself off, it was good to stay herself for a while. At night, Lyra and Pan would remind each other of their own memories of her parents. The truth they had known all these years. They wouldn’t start editing those now, despite the fascinating new revelations._

_Lyra reminded herself of this again when she took the next pill._

All this education at St. Sophia’s and Mrs. Coulter had married a man who couldn’t explain the difference between a proton and a neutron. It was for the best, she reminded herself. The more ignorant the easier to control. She could squeeze a lot out of this man. Already her daemon was whispering false words of endearment to Edward Coulter’s quail.

This was a moment of triumph so unpolluted by the aid of others Lyra felt her mother glow where she sat. She was surveying her guests like she ruled them all. Mrs. Coulter looking at her mother relegated to a corner table gave her goosebumps.

Edward stood banging his knife gracelessly against his glass. Mrs. Coulter rolled her eyes at the sight of him swaying in his stance. He garbled his way through a toast, clearly improvised, Lyra thought. At one point he grabbed onto Mrs. Coulter’s shoulder for balance and she had to fight the impulse to pull away. She would learn to manage this and him better in time.

In the meantime, Mrs. Coulter would use this event to make more connections. Edward would be a valuable key to open their doors. All these thoughts were running like a well-oiled machine. Lyra could feel multiple strands of information running through her mother’s head as she shifted focus from person to person in the crowd. This guest list was strategically built. The family was superfluous. Only those with the most to offer sat close to the wedding party. Her mother had moved to another country and yet this was the first memory Lyra felt that she was at home.

“My dear,” the alcohol on Edward’s breath stunk, “How much longer do you want me to keep this up, hm?”

Mrs. Coulter sighed, “Only a little longer. I’ve always _dreamed_ of my wedding day. Let me bathe in it as long as I can.”

Lyra thought Edward nudged her, but perhaps it was more of a slip. She imagined this kind of man would be boring very quickly. Of course, that wasn’t a concern to Mrs. Coulter. She stood up from her seat happy to find an opportunity to go.

People were eager to shake her hand to offer their best wishes. Lyra figured Edward must have been an eligible bachelor. He was moderately good looking considering his embarrassing personality.

“Lord Boreal isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the man leaned down to kiss her hand, “It was an honor to receive the invitation.”

Mrs. Coulter was deep in her performance. For a moment, Lyra allowed herself to understand the fun of this whole game. “Oh, my Edward insisted. He has only the best things to say about you.”

The man’s snake coiled around his wrist. Lyra felt discomfort at his lasting grip on Mrs. Coulter’s hand. She somehow pulled it away without seeming rude, brushing a strand of hair from her face to make up for any indelicacy of the action.

Lord Boreal tilted his head as he looked at her, “Everyone’s saying Coulter is a changed man because of you.”

“Is that so?” How was she able to fake a blush? “Edward is always throwing himself in work. I feel like I hardly see him and now I’m sure it will only get worse. I would be happy to be put to work myself, even just to be near him.”

“I’m sure we can find a position for you in the Magisterium with us. Secretarial, perhaps? Happy wife. Happy husband.”

Mrs. Coulter’s smile wasn’t reaching her eyes. Lyra felt she was in the heat of a hunt instead of a conversation. The ability to zero in on just the right target in just the right mood to be vulnerable to such a move. Lyra couldn’t tell if the pity she felt was hers or her mothers. Boreal was so easily moved it was pathetic. The idea that her and her mother shared a thought unnerved her.

_Fading in and out was the most seamless it had ever been this time. The gap had done them good. Though Lyra wasn’t going to wait another full week to dive back in. Pan knew this._

_“It’s still safe with just a few days.”_

_Pan only looked resigned._

Lord Asriel held his face close to the paper he was absorbed in while absent-mindedly inhaling all the bacon. Mrs. Coulter wonder if it bothered him that he was greasing up his own things.

“No, I didn’t want any, thank you for asking.” Asriel looked up at that comment. He examined the last bite in his hand and offered it to Mrs. Coulter. “I’m alright, thank you for your generosity. You shouldn’t work in the dark, by the way.”

Mrs. Coulter walked to the drapes and pulled them aside. They were by the sea. The light barely affected the room, however, considering the dark clouds and heavy rainfall. The waves were so tall, Lyra thought that at any moment they might rise high enough to crash through the windows.

Asriel burped, “Sky is dark. Power is out. Not much I can do.” Mrs. Coulter didn’t move a muscle as Asriel wrapped his arms around her. “Can’t even go outside.”

“I was looking forward to the change of scenery.” There was a warmth to her voice Lyra had never heard before, even when her mother had been crying out to her. Then it was frantic and desperate. This was simply warm and nothing else.

He nuzzled his face into Mrs. Coulter’s neck, “Maybe the storm won’t let up. We’ll have to stay here a few more days.”

“Edward expects me back tomorrow afternoon.” Asriel growled at this. Lyra knew her mother was pleased at his frustration. “Every indulgence has its limits. Even you.” It was an easy jab at him, but Lyra felt the weight of its truth.

Even this getaway, as reckless and aimless in its goal as it might be had a level of calculation to it. Her mother was trying her hardest to measure just how far she could push things until they break. She was well practiced in that field. Though the discomfort came from pursuing something that had no tangible benefit for her. Indulgence was a word chosen carefully.

“Why can’t you ever be happy with the time we have, Asriel?”

“I’m living off scraps.”

“A weekend alone together is scraps to you?”

“You’re spending more time fussing over your paperwork. Paperwork you won’t even let me look over.”

Mrs. Coulter tugged at both of his ears, shaking his head, “And what were you just doing?” This playful gesture took Lyra aback. It wasn’t thought out. Her mother wasn’t thinking about it before she did it or even during. It was natural action.

Asriel shrugged, “I was following your lead. And what do you have in those papers anyway? We’re researching the same things. Have you found something you’re not sharing?”

Now this was a clear boundary. Lyra felt her mother’s walls shoot straight up. “It’s boring. And do you really want to discuss research now?” Suspicion wasn’t leaving Asriel’s eyes. He knew Mrs. Coulter was keeping secrets, but surely so was he, and sure to both of them was that it didn’t matter.

Even with the deception Lyra was enveloped in a sense of connection she could recognize as rare. Mrs. Coulter leaned closer to Asriel but froze. Several thoughts competed in her mother’s head: The fact that this relationship would end and more likely than not, soon. The fact that this knowledge created a premature pang of grief and anger. The fact that the anger stemmed from the knowledge that she had thrown away precious time, risked everything she’s built, for, as Asriel just put it, scraps.

Seeing the daemons laze about on the floor was enough of a push to let her mother go forward and hold her father a little tighter. Lyra felt for them. She was disgusted with herself for it. Or her mother was disgusted with herself. Hard to tell.

Asriel spoke softly, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

_Lyra hadn’t been sleeping well. Side effect of prolonged use of Nostalgia. The pills were almost done and she hoped her sleeping pattern would return to normal. Pan was being patient with her, but Lyra felt the tension between them building up._

There was nothing more in the world Mrs. Coulter wanted than this screaming baby out of her arms. It wouldn’t stop shaking. She tried to wrap the blanket around it tighter so the limbs would have to stop squirming. It was difficult to avoid the small daemon resting with her. By the time the first arm was just secured, Asriel burst through the door.

He was soaking wet, but Lyra didn’t remember that when she was in her father’s head. Lyra felt the shiver of cold move through the door. As Asriel approached Mrs. Coulter’s bedside he and Stelmaria shook the excess water out of their hair. Some splashed on Mrs. Coulter’s face. She held her tongue, though, for Asriel immediately leaned in to pick up the baby.

Mrs. Coulter immediately folded her arms together holding in whatever rush of anxiety Lyra was struggling with. The whole body ached but still this was what demanded the most attention. It was keeping Mrs. Coulter from a much-needed rest. At least the thing still squirmed in Asriel’s arms.

Last time Lyra was here she didn’t realize her mother had been watching her father. She was noting his failed attempts to soothe her and how lost he looked as he held her. How weak. Mrs. Coulter grimaced.

“Lyra.”

She sat up, “What?”

“Her name. Lyra.” Asriel looked up for a brief moment with a smile on his face. It disappeared in a flash before, “We would know her daemon’s name if you simply let yours talk to Stelmaria.”

The effort to release the golden monkey was immense. Lyra hadn’t even realized that Mrs. Coulter brought her fingers wrapped up in his fur. Mrs. Coulter actually quite liked the name Lyra. She was sounding it out in her head. The smallest of headaches was coming on. Lyra wanted to rub her eyes, but Mrs. Coulter kept her arms stiff. She was working hard to tune out the sickly-sweet whispers Asriel was giving to the baby, focus on the rain instead. Lyra would have liked to hear them.

“My little Lyra.”

Mrs. Coulter leaned forward to get a better look out the window, “How much longer until Thorold arrives? I can’t stand this fussing around. I’m exhausted.” Yet, it was still the anxiety that was keeping her at attention.

“Then sleep,” he spat, “We’ll be sure not to disturb you on our way out.”

Stelmaria’s voice spoke clearly, “Pantalaimon.”

The golden monkey had a pathetic mopey look on his face as he returned to Mrs. Coulter’s side. Mrs. Coulter’s revulsion and Lyra’s pity competed in her head. Lyra was beginning to fight the experience of Nostalgia.

_She half woke out of the scene. Pan twitched as if in a dream. He looked pained. Lyra couldn’t get herself to wake up completely. The pill wasn’t done with her. She had to let herself go._

Baby Lyra was shoved into Mrs. Coulter’s arms. “Hold her.”

She only stared back at him. Lyra knew this “gesture” wasn’t about her. She knew it when she was in her father’s head. Only further confirmed in again. Asriel grabbed Mrs. Coulter’s head and pulled himself close.

“Those are _my_ eyes. _Mine_.” And the he kissed her like it was a game.

Her mother held her eyes tightly closed to avoid giving him anything. So, she did what she did best and lied, “I hear the car.”

“Yes. So do I.”

Lyra heard her very young self whine as her father picked her back up into his arms and disappear into the night. Mrs. Coulter sighed with relief. The room was back to its rightful state. Quiet. She readjusted the pillows behind her to allow her to sleep. Mrs. Coulter was lying down flat like a soldier.

The monkey tried to make his way into her arms. Mrs. Coulter wrestled with the sentimental feelings he was trying to share. The calm she felt with Asriel and the baby’s departure only worsened his worries. Lyra was almost impressed by the compartmentalization. Even now, more often than not she and Pan shared in their more extreme emotions. They had their disagreements, but it was different branches from the same root feeling. Her mother and her daemon would never entertain that idea.

Mrs. Coulter opened her eyes to her daemon staring at her, “Asriel’s plan will never work.”

“We already knew that.”

_Unsatisfying. That was the word Lyra would use to summarize all that she had experienced so far. The last memory really drove that point home. Mrs. Coulter would quickly black out the emotions mere seconds after she had experienced them. It made it quite difficult for Lyra to decode them._

_And there was only one pill left. It would of course, be pointless. Still, Lyra had already come so far. She wasn’t going to through away the last one._

_Pan was moving about the room comfortably. Looks like the physical strain Lyra temporarily felt had quickly worn off. So why wait? They could finish this today._ _She made herself one last cup of hot chocolatl._

The invitation was immaculate. The gold raised lettering shimmered against the light. Mrs. Coulter brought the paper to her nose. Scented. The extra effort likely to make up for the banality of the event.

Alumnae Tea at St. Sophia’s. An insipid event full of insipid talk. Lyra felt her mother’s dread at the boredom that was to come. With great reluctance, Mrs. Coulter pushed open the doors. Immediately several scholars rushed to her filling her ears with small talk. She was much more disengaged than the previous memories. These women weren’t registering as competitors or resources so they hardly registered at all. Mrs. Coulters thoughts were drifting elsewhere.

“What brings you to our tea this year? To be frank, when we received word that you were coming, we thought it was a mistake.”

Mrs. Coulter simply nodded and smiled. It was disorienting to be inside a mind that was hardly present in the moment. Lyra couldn’t grasp on to a firm thought or feeling. Flashes of questions and concerns would go as quickly as they came. It was sensory deprivation. The sense of time moved at an uneven pace.

By the time Lyra finally felt tethered, Mrs. Coulter was already saying her goodbyes as she rushed out to her car.

“The hotel, madam?”

Mrs. Coulter caught her breath, “No. Jordan College.” Was this the day Lyra met her? Lyra recalled it was a clear day, but the sky was steel grey and the fog hung low. Mrs. Coulter brought her thumb to her mouth. Lyra could see on both hands her manicure had become less than perfect. If this was planned, her mother had been doing a remarkably good job at keeping the thoughts at the front of her mind.

The car slowed by the gates of the college.

“I’ll walk from here.” Mrs. Coulter could see her driver squint in the rear-view mirror, but she knew he wouldn’t dare speak. He quickly jumped out of the car to hold the door for her. “Thank you.”

The gravel felt deafening to Lyra as it crunched beneath Mrs. Coulter’s ears. If before she was tuned out from the world, now she was hyper aware. Mrs. Coulter was watching for shadows and listening for footsteps. Lyra would get a rush of anxiety at the rustle of leaves and was frozen to the spot when she heard the sound of a young girl laughing.

“Roger! Roger, come back! You thief!”

A strange mix of a sigh and whine escaped from the golden monkey. She inched along one of the walls peaking ever so slowly around the corner. Not that it would matter much if young Lyra saw. She wouldn’t recognize her anyway.

But Lyra could recognize herself at six years old. The day before she had broken her leg and after being treated, she was practically immobilized for weeks. Still, the young Lyra was hobbling around trying to get at Roger for stealing her ball. Mrs. Coulter was angry at the sight. Her daughter was damaged and Asriel clearly couldn’t care less. Roger threw the ball at Lyra hitting her on the injured leg. Mrs. Coulter imagined throttling him.

But for Lyra, she was seeing Roger again. Alive and thriving. Lyra had trained herself to keep from overindulging the memories of her childhood. They always brought her back to the guilt and the isolation she felt on the mountain so many years ago. Seeing him now, happy, made her regret ever finding out about these wretched pills. And it made her all the more furious at her mother for this unknown visit.

In reality. The ball was thrown so weakly it barely registered as pain. It rolled past Lyra to Mrs. Coulter’s feet, who was now standing in a full view. Her instinct was to turn and go as quickly as possible, but it was too late. Both the young Lyra and Roger looked to the strange woman staring from the side of the building.

Mrs. Coulter quickly leaned down to fetch the ball. She held her arm out to the children. It was Roger who came up to retrieve it. “Apologies, ma’am.”

“It’s alright,” she handed the ball back to him, “What happened to your friend over there?” The young Lyra had lost interest in the interaction, but peaked up at the reference to herself.

“She was runnin’ across-“

“I was fighting, ma’am. My uncle took me into town on his horse and while we were there, we came across a pair of thieves who were taking a poor woman’s things from her. So naturally, my uncle went to fightin’ ‘em off, but I figured it would be a fairer fight if it was two against two. I joined in and while they did manage to hurt my leg, I got a few scratches in.”

It was a terrible lie, but Lyra felt her mother’s amusement at the effort. Lyra couldn’t remember this interaction, not that it would have seemed notable to her back then.

Roger leaned in, “She fell while she was runnin’ along the rooftops.”

“Sounds like you’re very brave, Miss…”

“Lyra Belacqua,” she beamed.

“Miss Lyra,” Mrs. Coulter stood back up, “I’ve kept you two from your fun.”

Roger ran back to young Lyra’s side. She snatched the ball away from him and bonked him on the head.

When Lyra registered that a smile had appeared on her mother’s face, she was putting the effort to make it disappear. Not even _she_ knew why she came to visit this day. The whole thing was making Lyra feel lightheaded. Her mother’s own emotions, yes, but seeing Roger again, and forgetting that this moment ever even occurred.

Her mother shoved her hands in her pockets and trained her head to the ground. Her driver was having a smoke when she returned to the car. At the sight of Mrs. Coulter, he quickly stamped out his cigarette and opened the door.

“Just a quick visit, was it?”

She slipped in without a word knowing she shouldn’t have come at all. There were bigger plans she had that didn’t include minding a little girl. The whole world was in front of her waiting for Mrs. Coulter to shape its future. Lyra felt the limitlessness of her mother’s solitude.


End file.
